The 3 Golden Rules Of Writing A Western

Westerns are a strange genre of fiction. They’re generally set in one place, deal with one kind of character and utilize a specific but limited aesthetic language. At first glance, it seems like such a specific setup that this fully fledged genre should actually be just a niche interest. Cowboys on their horses always seem to belong to the generation before, yet the Western never really leaves, with constant new films, novels and video games published in the genre year after year.

Clearly Western fiction has something special to offer. By understanding what that is, authors can prepare themselves to write great Western stories. To that end, this article will cover the three golden rules of the Western, along with some advice on how to apply them to your own writing.

Rule #1 – It’s not about the cowboy hat

As I mentioned above, Westerns have an easily identifiable aesthetic (or ‘look’). The cowboy hat, horse, revolver and spurs are shorthand for a familiar, trustworthy character. In the Pixar children’s movie Toy Story, the writers use Woody the cowboy doll to support and introduce an outlandish world in which toys come to life. Dropped into this strange setting, children are greeted by the familiar and orientating presence of the dependable, recognizable cowboy.

But what makes a cowboy such a reassuring presence? For a start, they are highly masculine figures, something which is compounded by their cultural significance. The cowboy is an icon of the West (this time in terms of world culture, not literary genre) and especially of America. In contrast to other iconic figures such as the alien, the vampire or the pirate, the cowboy is firmly rooted in a single place and time – cowboys exist pretty much exclusively in the American West.

Understanding this, it can be confusing that the Western remains so popular. Why are so many people so excited by stories set in a single time period of one country? The answer is that the Western is actually the most visible aspect of a wider literary genre – one which is often obscured by lines of culture.

The samurai who came before

It’s no secret to film buffs that old Western movies take a huge amount from samurai narratives. From borrowed plot points to stolen shots, films like Akira Kurosawa’s Seven Samuraiinformed cowboy movies such as John Sturges’ The Magnificent Sevento degrees that can, in hindsight, feel closer to plagiarism than inspiration.

This was possible because these very different figures are used to tell the same sort of story – the aesthetic varies, but the themes explored are constant. It’s for this reason that novels like Cormac McCarthy’s No Country for Old Menor Jason Aaron’s Scalpedcan be accurately called Westerns, despite the first one being a police drama set in the 80’s and the latter a modern-day crime story following a Native American protagonist.

The hat, horse and gun are an easy visual shorthand for these themes, but they should never be considered the same thing. Unsupported by Western themes, the cowboy ‘look’ can pop up in any genre. If you’re in doubt, check out Marin Thomas’ Mills and Boon story, Her Secret Cowboy, or even the aforementioned Toy Story.

The serious side to this idea is that fans of Western themes often find themselves disappointed by narratives that are more interested in the Western look. A movie like Wild Wild West, for example, plays the cowboy look to the hilt, but would be paired with a thematically Western movie like A Fistful of Dollarsto disastrous effect. Writers should be careful to appreciate the difference, or risk upsetting readers hoping for something they’re not ready to provide.

That’s not to say that the cowboy look is useless – it’s a unique aesthetic, and suits Western themes perfectly – just that writing a Western is far more about the themes being discussed.

Rule # 2 – Anachronism is key

Western narratives are just one part of what could be termed ‘anachronism fiction’. That is, fiction which focuses on characters or ideas that are in conflict with their apparent successors. The American West is a perfect setting for these themes since it presents a situation in which modernity, as we understand it now, was beginning to overtake a more traditional and less complicated kind of life.

Here we can see the true value of the cowboy’s iconic tools – the horse is a living thing in a position we’ve delegated to machines, and the simple six-shooter is presented as a basic and honest weapon (we always know how many shots the cowboy has). Trains and small towns are recurring visuals, examples of urbanity encroaching on the natural world and often coming under attack for its hubris.

This is the core conflict of both Western narratives and anachronism fiction as a whole – conflict between the insistent new and the persistent old. This is a central theme of Cormac McCarthy’s No Country for Old Men, as an aging police officer pursues a younger hitman he cannot quite understand as human. McCarthy asks hard questions, leaving it unclear whether society has changed for the worst, or if it has just left his characters behind.

I got set next to this woman… She kept on, kept on. Finally told me, said: I don’t like the way this country is headed. I want my granddaughter to be able to have an abortion. And I said well ma’am I don’t think you got any worries about the way the country is headed. The way I see it goin’ I don’t have much doubt but what she’ll be able to have an abortion. I’m goin’ to say that not only will she be able to have an abortion, she’ll be able to have you put to sleep. Which pretty much ended the conversation.

Samurai fit this theme just as well as cowboys – in fact samurai fiction often features ronin, samurai who have lost their masters or position. In both cases, the iconic figure is an individual suited perfectly to an older version of the world. The cowboy is a hero of the desert, the samurai a brave knight, but the cities overtake the wilderness, the feudal system withers, and the protagonist is marooned in a new age, becoming a bastion of tradition just by staying the same.

This is why the term ‘anachronism fiction’ is so apt. It is fiction which deals with anachronisms – ideas or characters who feel somehow apart from the time they inhabit – or even with the very idea of anachronism itself.

At the end of Charles Portis’ Western novel True Grit, the story skips far ahead in time. The protagonist, a young girl at the start of the story, is now a grown woman and has sought out gunslinger Rooster Cogburn to thank him for his help during the events of the story. She arrives too late – Rooster died a little while ago – but it would have been impossible for the story to work in any other way. Western heroes work as a counterpoint to the new way – for them to live on comfortably is to suggest that society might someday stop changing. Their real triumph is to make the point that the old ways still have value, and should not be forgotten completely.

Rooster Cogburn can’t be thanked by the young woman he helped because it would undercut the idea that his world has been eroded by the new. Instead, the reader is shown that her life has been influenced by him – the past has shaped the future, but it is still irrevocably gone. Portis underscores this by pointing out that another character, younger than Cogburn, is himself now an old man:

I heard nothing more of the Texas officer, LaBoeuf. If he is yet alive and should happen to read these pages, I will be pleased to hear from him. I judge he is in his seventies now, and nearer eighty than seventy. I expect some of the starch has gone out of that “cowlick.” Time just gets away from us.

Understanding this key theme brings the realization that Westerns can be set anywhere. In fact, once you identify the ideas that define the Western hero, you’ll notice that they are everywhere. Fiction loves mavericks who dance to their own tune, especially when they’re put in opposition to a ‘newer’ and more bureaucratic system. From Han Solo to Batman, ‘Western’ themes are embedded throughout our culture.

While cowboys don’t make a Western, understanding the themes that do can help you appreciate why certain visuals work so well. This combination of thematic appreciation and symbolic relevance can lead to great Western fiction, but for those who wish to write something truly original there’s one more step.

Rule #3 – Use old ideas to explore new ideas

Knowing that Westerns are ‘about’ anachronism is all well and good, but it’s putting this knowledge into practice that will create something amazing. Because Westerns engage with ideas that are changing or dying out, they’re also commonly bound up in ideas of masculinity. That’s not to say that masculinity is a dead concept, but that it is one which has been subject to constant change.

Works like Jack Schaefer’s Shanefeature masculine characters whose way of doing things no longer fits comfortably with the world around them. Shanefollows a gunslinger of the same name as he gets bound up in a conflict between honest homesteaders and a gang of criminals. Shane is uncomplicated, the definitive man’s man, and yet his necessary violence unsettles the lives of the family who are boarding him. First, through the potential revenge of the criminals he confronts, and then later through the more complex idea that his perfect masculinity is tempting the married Marian.

Interestingly, Marian, her husband Joe and Shane all understand why this is, and work calmly to negate its expected outcome. Shane selflessly leaves the family, his old-fashioned masculinity having been the perfect tool to get them out of trouble but also something which has no place in their everyday lives. The couple’s son, Joey, rounds out the critique – he sees something in Shane he desperately admires, but he lacks the maturity to differentiate between the gunslinger’s valuable legacy and the danger of his continued presence.

He was a man like father in whom a boy could believe in the simple knowing that what was beyond comprehension was still clean and solid and right.

Shaneis a great case study of how Western themes suit a discussion of masculinity, but that doesn’t mean masculinity is the be-all and end-all of Western fiction. The truth is that any changing way of life maps brilliantly onto the themes and structure of Western narratives. All you need is a lone protagonist, emblematic of a changing system of belief, who can be used to explore both the benefits and problems of a set of ideas.

Westerns have, so far, been predominantly about masculinity’s role in the world, but the Western blueprint fits other ideas just as well – sexuality, age and technology are all fields begging for their own definitive Western. Anyone wishing to see how this can be done should check out John Michael McDonagh’s movie Calvary, an excellent ‘Western’ that takes religion (specifically Catholicism) as its subject for questioning.

McDonagh asserts the conflicting ideas that the Catholic Church has been too rocked by scandal to continue as it is, but that its current form can still offer a unique and genuine form of salvation to those in need.

Father Lavelle: I think there’s too much talk about sins and not enough about virtues.
Fiona: What would be your number one?
Father Lavelle: I think forgiveness has been highly underrated.

Update: Since publication, this topic has been discussed succinctly but well by Cinefix, in their feature ‘Genres That Need to Make a Comeback’. The video is included below.

Bonus rule – Don’t be grumpy

Westerns offer a perfect canvas on which to interrogate and explore the place of old values in a new world. As my earlier examples show, this is most compelling when writers consider both sides of the argument, but there is the risk of sinking into nostalgia.

Many readers will be thrilled to read a story where old values triumph over newfangled ideas, but these narratives have a very specific shelf-life as the newfangled ideas are accepted as self-evident. The idea that the world is always changing is timeless, and the search to find wisdom universal, so be careful to understand that it is these wider themes that make so many Western narratives classics, not just the idea that you should be able to shoot people who annoy you.

Saddle up

I started by saying that it can seem strange that Westerns are a fully formed genre rather than just a niche. Hopefully it’s now apparent why that’s the case, and that Westerns offer a vast canvas on which generations have, and will, create their own stories. Not only do they offer a gripping way to interrogate ideas, but they’re some of the most enjoyable stories to write and have a huge cache of symbolism and cool visuals that authors can play with to their hearts’ content.

About Robert Wood

Rob is an editor for Standoutbooks. He has yet to encounter a bookshop he can walk past, a habit which has become deadly now that you can buy the newest releases digitally at 1am. Thankfully, it also comes in handy for providing the best advice on writing your book.

Reader Interactions

Comments

‘No Country For Old Men is not now nor will it ever be considered a western. History lesson 101: America is the only country in the world that had, key word ‘had’ a western history; period of time.
Hence, a western is cowboys with stetson hats, six guns, horses, cattle drives, rustling, stage coach hold ups, etc. This is what envelopes an American western. Modern day sci-fri crap, boogie man crap, aces -n- eights and other piles of horse manure are not westerns, just simply put “crap”. You need to know the difference and please don’t try to justify the stupidity of saying No Country For Old Men is a western. It was a joke and a pile of crap; a ‘b’ rated flick at best for the weird TV channel. Learn your history. The American “cowboy” era was unique to this county. Gunfighters, marshals, bad guy, ranchers, townsfolk . . . Not four wheel trucks and sniper rifles, and drugs, and just ‘modern day crap. Wow, your advice is bdly tainted. You need to get educated!

Thanks for commenting – I hope you won’t mind, but I took your message out of all-caps for the sake of readability. I’m not sure I understood your message – I believe No Country is set in Texas, and has no fantasy or sci-fi elements. It’s certainly set in the modern day, though.

I understand what you mean about the unique nature of the ‘Western’ period, though obviously other countries, like Mexico, underwent very similar events and traditions. Also, much of what we understand about the American West comes from fiction – it’s been a while since I studied the subject, but I remember being particularly disappointed at the lack of quick-draw shootouts. Nathan Champion did stick with me as a fascinating character, though, so that’s not to say there wasn’t plenty of real ‘action’. As I said in the article, I think it makes more sense to focus on the ideas behind the genre than a strict time period and aesthetic style – having partially created the idea of the Western setting, it seems odd to then declare it hallowed ground. As ever, though, it’s just an opinion; if you don’t want sci-fi or fantasy aspects to your Western fiction, I doubt anyone will complain if you leave them out.

If you get the chance to read it, I’d be interested in what you think of Patrick deWitt’s The Sisters Brothers. At face value, it fits your definition of a Western, but there are enough odd elements that it might get itself disqualified. An interesting read, if nothing else.

I have ventured a YA book which I deliberately designed to be read which calls the classic western to mind; a reboot of the Lone Ranger, but with all the identifying serial numbers carefully scoured off – and revamped as an adventure set in Texas when it was an independent republic.

I think most people when then think of a classic western are also being pretty specific as to time and place; post Civil War, and set somewhere west of the Mississippi. There is the cowboy, the horse, the six-shooter, the town with a railway station – it’s all pretty much a generic blur in a lot of cases.

My own books aside from Lone Star Sons are sometimes classed as Westerns, which is some ways is a bit limiting. I prefer to think of them as historical novels set in the 19th century American west; a wagon train on the California trail, with nary a six-shooter in sight, the life of a woman during the Texas war for independence and running a boarding house in Austin – no cowboys there (although there is a company of early Texas Rangers). The settling of the Texas Hill Country — with immigrant German settlers; eventually some cattle drives, with cowboy hats and six-shooters, plus a conflict with a vicious horse-thief and all-around baddie. A Harvey girl from Boston, working in a railroad restaurant in New Mexico. Two Englishwomen settling in Texas in the 1870s – some classical elements of the Western there, but with a twist. So – yes, there’s a huge array of elements to play with – but do you wind up with a Western in the classical sense?

A fantastic question, and certainly one which seems to arouse strong views. Personally, I try to adopt the mindset that genre – like language itself – is just a tool we use to better understand and explore important ideas. What the classical western offers readers, and where it’s better for a specific story to stray from the beaten path, are questions that I’m sure will be asked by generation after generation of authors.

Hi Rob, this is interesting. I’m book marking it.
I write westerns and love the wide range of stories I can tell, but all with a Stetson and a six-shooter. 🙂
I’ve dealt with a lot of problems that the modern age didn’t invent but the olden days didn’t have exact terms for, like PTSD and spousal abuse and alcoholism, just lots of stuff, lots of troubles. (mainly the villains!) LOL
I love the genre.

Thanks for the kind words and for commenting. I’ve just read Thomas Savage’s ‘The Power of the Dog’, which deals with sexual repression in this kind of context. It’s a fascinating way to interrogate history, and find new stories in a familiar setting.

I’ve been a historical western romance author for almost 20 years and the western is much more than a hat, guns, boots and shoot-outs. Much, much more. It was a definite time in history when the American West was being settled and it dealt more with the struggles in trying to tame the wild land and about the dreams of those men and women to carve out a place where they could set down lasting roots than it ever was about an idea. The western is not an idea. It was a way of life–trying to make something from nothing. History is full of the men and women who sacrificed everything in order to reach their goals. These are kind of people who are in my stories. They have depth and heart and goals to achieve. Those of us who write this genre aren’t looking for nostalgia or trying to evoke it in our readers. From your picture, you appear really young. Have a good day.

Thanks for commenting – I’m glad we’re in agreement on the aesthetic trappings of the western and the dangers of slipping into nostalgia. I’m not clear on your point about people through history sacrificing to achieve their goals; were you agreeing that the western needn’t be shackled to one time period, or arguing that it’s the context of time that makes the western unique from other such stories (for example those set in WWI or in other nations)?

As we’ve talked about elsewhere, one of the most fascinating things about the ‘western’ time period is how interwoven fact and fiction have become. While there’s a real time period involved, it’s a time period that’s become entwined with a set of ideas and ideals – as you say, people struggling to claim a land of their own. It’s those ideas that can imbue stories set elsewhere with the western spirit, and which means there are stories set in the old west which don’t fit into the traditional western genre.

Robert, I live in cowboy country. I wouldn’t dare take these real dedicated men who crawl out of bed before dawn to ride out in the snow and rain to take care of their cattle and plunk them down in Japan or New York City or on some alien planet. They wouldn’t fit there. So no, we’re not in agreement. I know two things–cowboys and ranching. I know how they think and how they feel. And how dedicated they are as caretakers of this Texas land. It’s in their blood, in their hearts and souls. And this is what I try to portray in my stories–not how many bullets are in their guns. They wear their cowboy hats and boots and they do it with pride. They’re not pretend cowboys and they can saddle up and ride out while you’re still thinking about it.

Thanks for getting back to me so quickly. I can tell you have a real passion for real-life cowboys and ranching, and it would of course be inappropriate to misrepresent real individuals in any kind of creative non-fiction.

In fiction, of course, the rules are slightly different, and there’s a spectrum of artistic liberty that begins with inventing characters or plotlines and ends with transplanting ideas and even individuals to bold new settings. Each author has to settle on what they’re comfortable with – as a proud Texan, you clearly have strict rules about how it’s acceptable to portray fictional characters in the mold of those you know and admire personally. I’d imagine a military veteran might have similar feelings about a war story, or really any group about how their fictional dopplegangers interpret their lives. I can’t, for instance, imagine what the Kennedy family think of all the ways JFK has been assassinated in the history of fiction.

Such strict rules are great personal guidelines, but have less utility when applied to the art others create. A definition of the American West as it exists and existed would have no room for books like ‘The Sisters Brothers’, ‘The Power of the Dog’ or ‘No Country for Old Men’, even before branching out into more varied settings. I’m not sure a strict adherence to realism would allow for much of Cormac McCarthy’s work, which would be a crying shame.

As you say, though, you’ve been writing stories according to your own rules for quite some time, so there are certainly readers who are looking for exactly your vision. A loyal, personal representation will always have a place, even among more varied portrayals of western ideals.

The mystique of the western will always be “out there”; not because of the alleged connection to Japanese samurais, or Mongol hordes, the invading Huns or the vast armies of Alexander the Great. It is, instead, a uniquely American experience, covering a relatively brief period in our history.

“John Wayne’s” comments are reflective of what — as kids — we saw on the screens at the Saturday afternoon matinee. The “oaters”; mass produced and churned out for an audience of cap pistol toting preteens, fed on the good vs. evil, with good always prevailing and the hero either riding off into the sunset, or (ugh) marrying the damsel in distress.

Fortunately for all of us, the “western” grew up. Complex stories with flawed heroes and heroines, the ends not always justifying the means. Roy Rogers and Gene Autry were the squeaky clean cowboys with the white hats and the flashy guns and horses; John Wayne and Eastwood (and others) broadened the genre, and in the end made it better.

Westerns will always have their niche. The old standards will be revised and the stories rewritten. But they will never go away.

Thanks for your thoughts, which were beautifully put. As I said in the article, the western can be understood as an American outcropping of anachronism fiction, which is the relationship such stories share with the samurai stories mentioned.

Many of the trappings of the western are indeed unique to America, but the deeper ideals speak to the human condition in a way that transcends nationality. After all, westerns are popular all over the world, as are stories set in the fantasy version of medieval Europe. Clearly, there’s a lot of American identity caught up in the frontier, but at a deep enough level, very few experiences are the preserve of only one nation.

Wow, found all of this fascinating! Trying to apply everyone’s points is a challenge for sure, but every comment and reply relates to possibly the main points involved in building you character and where you take him/her? The time period certainly extends after the 1800`s, the point being that the western morals, beliefs, are longed for by people today. Modern life is fast and complicated, lets look back and try and bring into modern life with the same values and make life simple? These are very active points, still lived by in the mid west, and brought to life in not only films but series such as Longmire. The old ways and beliefs struggle with modern day attitudes but succeed in the end? That`s what we want to read, whatever the struggle, the good guy wins riding into the sunset?

I have just finished my first novel, indeed a western. Its period is 1872 in AZ. I have tried to put old values into it, but with a few modern touches to make it read easily, without too much emphasis on bloody details, although the six gun features as the law. This is also through self publishing. All is a learning curve, which is why I am here.

Thank you all for the posts. It is all important and to try and apply.

Would like to preface that I think this article is excellent on its discussions of themes, but there is one detail present that irks me within it, and only a piddling one. You describe the American westerns as borrowing heavily from and even stealing shots and plot points from Japanese Samurai films. Now, this isn’t quite fair, and your mention of Akira Kurosawa is interesting as Akira Kurosawa’s idol, one of his biggest inspirations, was John Ford. It was the spaghetti, revisionist and European westerns of the 1960’s and 70’s that took inspiration and (in the case of The Magnificent Seven and Fistful of Dollars) whole plots from Samurai films. Kurosawa was influenced by the classic American westerns, and he in turn influenced the European directors who took up the mantle after Hollywood had moved on. I don’t put too much stake in “credit where credit’s due” or viewing one person or nation as the progenitor of resonant concepts, I simply find the timeline of cultural exchange between countries around the nearly universal lone wanderer/gunslinger/ronin/knight errant story to be fascinating. I don’t know if this complaint is enough to warrant a revision but one would have to research further than Kurosawa to find a Japanese influence in the classic era of westerns.

Thanks so much for the article, I do love that Shane quote you included.

Thanks very much for commenting, and for your thoughts. I agree that the multi-directional nature of inspiration is fascinating, and that the value in understanding it is in discovering what authors can use in their own writing, rather than apportioning credit.

To this end, I think the Seven Samurai/Magnificent Seven example is a good way of showing how a genre that’s often thought of as inextricable from one place and time actually has a wider reach, and more varied influences. That said, this, like pretty much every literary topic, is one that increases in interest and complexity the deeper you go, and I’d certainly join you in encouraging anyone interested by this article to engage in some further reading.

Well, I can cheat a little and recommend ‘The Border Trilogy’, also by Cormac McCarthy. Other than that, I’d suggest looking into Elmore Leonard, whose Western stories are now collected in a single volume.

Epiphany! My “Young Adult Historical Action Adventure Series,” about Goth barbarians on the frontier of the Late Roman Empire, is a western in every way except place and time. The setting may mean it’s not a “western,” but for the purposes of structure and theme, this insight is enormously valuable.

Following up on this thought, I bought an Elmore Leonard western–his early writing style is strikingly similar to mine (who knew?)–then stumbled across this article. Others apparently disagree with your point, but I found it perceptive and validating. Thank you.